


reasons why you should fuck me: my hair is really soft and it’ll feel good in your fist

by Scribe



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Ficlet, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-07
Updated: 2015-01-07
Packaged: 2018-03-06 12:23:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,464
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3134354
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scribe/pseuds/Scribe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Somebody suggested that the hair-pulling post should be about Enjolras and Grantaire, and then goshemily was eloquent about it in tags, so.</p>
            </blockquote>





	reasons why you should fuck me: my hair is really soft and it’ll feel good in your fist

**Author's Note:**

  * For [goshemily](https://archiveofourown.org/users/goshemily/gifts).



> This is a tumblr askbox ficlet that grew too long for a tumblr askbox; it has no ending and has not been even remotely edited, please set your expectations accordingly.

[goshemily said in tumblr tags: #i am thinking about grantaire saying this#completely self-deprecatingly obv#you know#some night when everyone’s out in the musain or whatev#he propositions enjolras ‘hey you could use some stress relief’#’okay’ enjolras says ‘you’re probably right. and why should i pick you?’#and grantaire’s totally floored bc somehow he’s managed to miss enjolras?? also thinks he’s cute??? and would like to bone him???#so he blinks rapidly and is like ‘……..it’s a good way to shut me up’#and enjolras is like ‘i don’t think sex should be about punishing you for having opinions even when they’re stupid ones’#and grantaire’s like ‘……….i like having my hair pulled? idk man#i got nothing’#because y’know grantaire is trying real hard to front like he thinks this’ll actually happen#when of course really he thinks this is all leading up to enjolras laughing and going back to the golden trio in the corner#and instead enjolras leans in close and very gently very slowly wraps a curl at the nape of grantaire’s neck around his finger#and tugs#and when grantaire opens his eyes - involuntarily closed in pleasure - enjolras says#’alright.’]

Enjolras says, "Alright. Your place or mine?"

"Um," says Grantaire. He darts a glance around the bar. How has no one noticed that he's somehow managed to, shit, pick Enjolras up? Is that actually what's happening?

"I have roommates," he manages.

Enjolras blinks at him. "I know, so do I," he says. "They're all very sex-positive people, though, I can't imagine they'd be bothered. Unless you have some kind of system? I suppose it's general courtesy to warn people if you're going to be loud. Your room does share a wall with the living room, if I'm picturing the layout correctly."

Grantaire honestly cannot tell if Enjolras' deadpan is in earnest. He's usually more astute at this sort of thing, but then again he apparently just convinced Enjolras to have sex with him by mentioning that he might have a little bit of a hair pulling kink. They appear to have stepped into an alternate reality; who knows how social nuance works here?

Luckily, he's been flirting obliquely with Enjolras for long enough that it's practically a reflex at this point.

"How do you know I'll be loud?" he says, arching an eyebrow.

"What makes you think I wasn't referring to myself?" says Enjolras, not missing a beat. Grantaire is still trying to process that when he continues. "No, it was just a feeling. That, and I like feedback when I'm doing this sort of thing. You generally aren't hesitant on that score."

"Enjolras, I will be as loud as you like," Grantaire says feelingly. 

"Good," says Enjolras. "Let me get my coat, then. Unless you wanted to finish your drink?"

"No, I'm set. Lead on."

Enjolras' coat is draped over the back of the chair he was occupying earlier in the evening, next to Courfeyrac. Grantaire realizes this when he's followed Enjolras halfway across the room and suddenly really, really wishes he'd stayed at the bar and finished his beer. Even as he thinks it Enjolras reaches the coat and Combeferre turns and says,

"You're headed out so soon?"

"Yes, actually. I'll see you later, though. Or, actually-" he turns to Grantaire with a little frown- "we never did decide where we were going."

Well, there goes all hope of this not becoming a public thing. The question is, if Enjolras wants him to be loud- god, is this actually happening? Grantaire is so going to be loud. Enjolras seemed to like the hair thing; maybe he'll pull hard enough that it will actually hurt, that is going to be amazing and _definitely loud_ \- the question is, would he rather look Enjolras' friends in the eye after that or his own?

On one hand, he's had to listen to enough of Joly, Bossuet, and Musichetta having sex that they definitely owe him. They also already know about the hair thing. Not that Combeferre and Courfeyrac are the kink-shaming type, but still, he isn't sure he really wants to share that particular detail with the world. Though maybe Enjolras will just tell them anyway. He can absolutely imagine the three of them debriefing their sex lives.

On the other hand, there is no way that his roommates won't sit him down and make him talk about it afterward. Combeferre and Courfeyrac probably will not, which is a large point in their favor.

Also, he hasn't cleaned his room in at least four months.

"Yours, I guess," he tells Enjolras. "If that's okay."

"It should be. You guys are staying for another couple hours, right?"

"Most likely," says Combeferre.

"Why?" asks Courfeyrac, drawing out the word with the beginnings of suspicion. Enjolras gives them an innocent smile.

"Well, I wouldn't want to disturb anyone, and I'm told that Grantaire can get rather loud."

Grantaire really wishes that someone was recording this moment. He's sure that the expressions on Combeferre and Courfeyrac's faces are absolute gold, but he's too busy being mortified to really appreciate them. 

"So we'll be on our way, then," he says, just as Courfeyrac is switching from shock into an _oh, Grantaire, are you sure about this_ look that's almost a perfect copy of the one Joly would be giving him if he knew what was going on.

Grantaire is sure about this.

He is significantly less sure about tomorrow morning- or later tonight, shit, he forgot that picking Enjolras' place means he's going to have to do the awkward stay-or-go dance- but the part where he's offering Enjolras his body as stress relief? Yeah, he is really damn sure about that.

Bossuet catches his eye with a questioning look as he heads for the door; Grantaire shoots him a reassuring thumbs-up and mouths _I'll text you_ across the bar. Nobody else stops him, by some miracle. Maybe they're all busy gaping at Enjolras following in his wake. At least, he hopes Enjolras is following. There's an Orpheus analogy in here somewhere, but it falls apart when he picks at it; you could make an argument about Grantaire's general lack of faith, maybe, but it's Enjolras who has the voice to charm gods and beasts.

It's gotten cold outside the Musain.

After a moment, the door opens and Enjolras slips into the night beside him.

"Listen," he says, as if Grantaire could ever do anything else. "I'm sorry if I embarrassed you, with Combeferre and Courfeyrac. I so rarely get the chance to surprise them, I just wasn't thinking."

"Don't worry about it. Nobody in this group can keep a secret, and it's not like I'm going to lie to my roommates about where I've been, so. Everyone will know soon enough."

"Still, I should have asked if you wanted to keep it private."

Grantaire shrugs. "Maybe."

"I'm sorry," says Enjolras. The weird self-assured flirting is gone, replaced by the almost painfully genuine manner Enjolras gets around his friends sometimes. If it kindles something warm in Grantaire's stomach, nobody has to know. 

"Disregarding your boundaries is really not how I wanted to start the night," Enjolras is saying. "Are you sure you want to do this? It's really fine if you've changed your mind."

"No," says Grantaire. "No, I haven't. Let's." He doesn't fill in the rest of the sentence and it dangles there between them, full of possibilities. They're still standing outside the Musain. It's dark enough that no one inside will be watching through the windows, at least. Grantaire has a pretty good idea of how to get to Enjolras' flat from here, but it seems presumptuous to start walking. Enjolras ought to be leading the way; that's just how the two of them work.

"Aren't you cold?" Enjolras asks suddenly, frowning like he's just realized that Grantaire didn't stop for a coat of his own.

"Only a little," says Grantaire. "Hoodie's pretty warm. I have a hat, but, uh." He lets that sentence dangle, too. Enjolras' gaze sharpens.

"But you thought you'd leave it off?"

"I thought I'd leave it off," Grantaire agrees. It's suddenly a little hard to breathe. 

"In case I wanted to do something like this?" Enjolras asks, and he reaches out very slowly to twine his fingers in the curls at the nape of Grantaire's neck. He doesn't pull at all, not yet, and Grantaire couldn't say if it's the anticipation or the feather-light brush of Enjolras' fingers that makes a shiver run all the way through him. Probably both.

"Yeah," he says belatedly.

"Well," says Enjolras with a smile. "Full marks for initiative."

Grantaire is glad Enjolras is taller; it means he can use his grip on Grantaire's hair to tilt his head up for a kiss.


End file.
